


Behind the Words

by indigoat



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Love Letters, M/M, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9170998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigoat/pseuds/indigoat
Summary: This was based off a story my teacher told me about her experiences with romance when she was a kid and it was so cliche and fanfiction-y that I had to steal it for Spock and Kirk.





	

James Kirk came up to Spock in the hall, running a hand through his sandy hair and then resting it against Spock’s locker. “Hey. You’ve got another one?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said, unzipping his backpack. He handed James a small envelope with the boy’s name written neatly on the front. James took it, and after giving Spock a shy smile and tucking it into his pocket, took off through the rapidly filling hallway. Spock watched him leave, wondering how he’d gotten himself into such a mess.

It started at the beginning of the year, after his mother convinced his father to let him take part in an Earth and Vulcan education exchange—a few students from Spock’s Vulcan school would spend a year in a human school, and vice versa. It was in that way that Spock suddenly found himself in a “normal” highschool full of people that, rather than attempt to control their emotions, chose to display them as loudly and flamboyantly as possible.

In later months, Spock supposed that the integration had worked rather too well, after finally acknowledging the illogical feelings he held for a boy in his grade, James Kirk. Kirk was a confident, kindhearted intellectual, if a bit overzealous at times. Spock had been irritated with his feelings at first, but he knew denying the problem would be most illogical. Also illogical would be the assumption that the feelings would not remain. And remain they did, all throughout the school year.

Both of his parents were still living in their home on Vulcan, and Spock was currently situated in a small apartment room paid for by the sponsors of the exchange programme. Therefore, it was completely possible for him to have a mate on Earth—no one would have to know. But something was stopping him from going straight up to James and explaining everything—it seemed too forward, and he was well aware of the funny games humans played when they were infatuated with a person. He had to do something, though. For the first time in his life, he wanted to show his true feelings.

Finally he came up with an idea. He used a classmate from back home for the job—T’Pring, ironically the one whom he was betrothed to. Perhaps he could not say all the things he wished, but she certainly could. She was outspoken for a Vulcan, and rather opinionated. Back home, he had read enough of his people’s literature to know how to craft an intricate and intelligent prose, and that was just what he did, filling pages of his college bound notebook with lyrical phrases and biased praises, all in his neat, precise handwriting. All addressed to the same boy—James Kirk.

And then he approached James and told him he had something for him, from his friend T’Pring. The plan worked. Spock thought sometimes it would have been much easier on everyone if it hadn’t—if James hadn’t liked what the letter said, but he had. Very much so. A day later he’d approached Spock at his locker after homeroom and asked if he could speak to T’Pring.

At this, Spock did not outright lie to answer, rather, he stretched the truth to fit the circumstances. No, T’Pring’s parents had accompanied her to Earth, were very traditional and would not stand for their daughter seeing a human. James’ eyes had dimmed at that, but they brightened once more—to a clear, sparkling blue—when Spock offered to tell T’Pring about his reaction.

The day after that, James saw him again with his own letter, asking if Spock would be so kind as to deliver it to T’Pring for him. Spock saved the letter to read that night in his bed, first focusing on the words, letting them wash over him, and then pouring the physical letter—James’ handwriting was scratchy and jagged, but almost friendly looking. Blue ink and a tear in the left hand corner that he’d fixed with clear tape. And so they fell into a routine, James meeting Spock at his locker every other day to either give or receive a letter, always grinning bashfully with his hands jammed in his trouser pockets. Sometimes he even stayed to speak with Spock for a few minutes before heading to his class, laughing and resting his hand on Spock’s shoulder like it was the most natural position in the world.

A few weeks later, however, James was at Spock’s locker again, lacking the aura of casual grace that usually surrounded him. Spock turned to face him, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I talk to you after school?” James asked, and the request was so unexpected that Spock was agreeing and watching him walk away before he was fully aware of what had just transpired.

The rest of the day passed, almost seeming longer than normal to Spock, until finally, at 2:30 and 14 seconds (the clock in his calculus class was 14 seconds faster than the others in school) the bell rang and the school day was over. Spock headed towards his locker, unsure of what to expect—none of his hypotheses seemed likely.

James showed up two minutes and 17 seconds later, wearing a navy blue sweatshirt instead of his typical uniform blazer.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against Spock’s locker and looking him over. ”I was in biology,” he continued, “and Ms. Armstead had some equations from first period on the board. And, you know, the handwriting looked a lot like what’s in those letters you’ve been giving me.” He paused for a moment, then added, “T’Pring’s letters—but they’re not, are they?”

There was no way to stretch the truth around this. Spock met James’ calculating blue eyes and confessed.

“Affirmative. The letters were of my own creation.”

“And why would you pretend that they weren’t?”

“It was… logical for me to do.”

“Logical, huh?” A grin tugged at James’ lips. “Here on emotional planet Earth we just tell people when we’re interested in them.”

“I beg your pardon?” If Spock allowed himself to splutter, he would be doing so now. James laughed jovially at his response. 

“C’mon, Spock. You wrote me a dozen of these. The only person you’re fooling is yourself.” He took a step closer to Spock, who took a step backwards and collided with his locker. “Are you doing anything tonight? I know a vegetarian place downtown.”

“I don’t understand,” Spock said. “You were writing to T’Pring, not me.”

Jim laughed. “Spock, I was attracted to the letter writer, and that was you. So, are you free tonight?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good. And Spock?”

“Yes?”

“There’s no way T’Pring can be as cute as you.”


End file.
